Submerged
by Bishonen no Miko
Summary: The continuation of the Vincent/Lucrecia/Hojo love triangle. For all FFVII fans.
1. Painful Endings

Authoress says it's time to start something new. I've been here before, I'll come back again, so keep the @#*&( tea HOT!!! AND DON'T FORGET THE LARD!!!!!!! (Gawd, do I ever love Palmer)  
  
Okay. Let's see. I own Final Fantasy VII. Don't yell at me! It's sitting in my PS2 RIGHT NOW. I don't own any of the copyrights, though.  
  
Chapter One: Painful Endings  
  
A little story behind this fanfic. I am totally bored. I just visited a strange little site on Hojo, followed by another strange site on the scientific method. That got me to thinking: the ShinRa mansion has a billion trillion notes in it, so tehre must be something interesting there, right? Like, oh, a diary? Insane lab notes? Lab logs? Fairy tales? Yes, fairy tales. Then I thought, no one wants to read each of those things seperately, so lets put a story behind it.  
  
And here it is. The story.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Hojo sat in the Lifestream, just "chillin'", as some of the stupider teenagers of the time would say.  
  
A/N: I am not bashing anyone that says "chillin'". I'm just saying that I think Hojo would look down on anyone who didn't use proper international gramatical English.  
  
Anyways, Hojo was sitting around, in a rather heavily pollenated field of flowers, pondering his existance, when yet another dead person ran up and slapped him, which he couldn't feel anyways, because he was dead. Everyone wanted him dead before, and now that he was, everyone wanted him alive so they could cause him more physical harm. It was a vicious cycle. If he'd had some paper, he would have written this observation down as a lab note.  
  
"Achoo," he thought, and the sound reverberated through the field. It was rather annoying, actually, that everything he thought was projected as sound outside his mind. He had to be VERY careful what he thought, and that was going to be a difficult thing.  
  
He'd origionally planned on disapating into the Lifestream, but here he sat, in an obnoxiously pretty field of overly pollenated flowers, pondering his existance and the existance of the "Promised Land" he now sat square in the middle of, or what he supposed was the middle. Who knew how boundless the "Promised Land" was. He certainly didn't. And now that he was dead, very dead, with one hot lead bullet between his eyes, he certainly didn't care. There was no point. Nothing he did mattered anymore. He would never again wreak havoc on the miserable planet on which he had lived.  
  
Now, how Hojo ended up in the Promised Land was an interesting theory.  
  
He himself supposed that it was because of all his exposure to Mako. Perhaps he'd become one with it. This, of course, was impossible, because Mako only mutated.  
  
Perhaps it was because he'd injected Jenova cells into his body. That was an even stupider notion, as Jenova was the enemy of the Ancients, Cetra, whatever... He definitely should not be here.  
  
But, once again, here he was, covered in yellow pollen up to his knees.  
  
"Some Promised Land," he thought. "This is Hell."  
  
x x x x x  
  
Vincent Valentine coughed discretely into his fist, pushing the large stone door opened with little effort. He gazed down the dark spiral of staircase that lay before him, pushing onward with increasing purpose.  
  
Hojo was gone, and Lucrecia was still here. And if Lucrecia was still here, then perhaps there would be some sort of chance to bring her back.  
  
Dust clouded the hallway as he stepped onto the stone floor. The clatter of his boot agains the rock sent echoes throughout the basement.  
  
Everything was quiet. All the commotion of the past was gone. Lucrecia was gone. Hojo was dead. God only knows whatever happened to that woman Infalna that Gast was infatuated with. And as far as Vincent knew, Gast was gone as well. All was quiet. Eerily quiet. Not even the slow, paced dripping of pipes could be heard.  
  
He made his way to the lab and gazed up at one of the shelves. Ripping everything down from it's shelf, he began sorting everything by subject, date, and type of literature, being sure to keep a rather tattered looking blue book on the desk table at all times.  
  
On the front of this book was scrawled "Diary".  
  
On the first page of this book was scrawled "Hojo".  
  
x x x x x  
  
Hojo shuddered. It felt as if someone was walking over his grave. Of course, he didn't have one. A "tratior" such as himself was always given the same burial by ShinRa. His head was shot out of a cannon and his body was torched. It was a Junon wives tale that whomever was "burried" in such a manner would forever roam the halls of damnation.  
  
For Hojo, Paradise was his damnation. He shuddered again. He knew what was coming.  
  
Upon his arrival in the Promised Land, the former Cetra Elders passed judgement upon him. "As we cannot condemn you to the Lifestream," they projected in their annoyingly pleasant voices, "we will lock away your soul in the mortal world, while your mind remains here. You will be returned to your mortal life should anyone destroy the vessel your soul is trapped in. We will make sure that you suffer greatly in the mortal world should this occur."  
  
Another Elder joined in. "We will, however, prevent this from happening, for the pain caused by seperation of mind and soul are neverending, and this is far greater that any punishment we can procure for the mortal world."  
  
It actually didn't hurt very much, because until the moment his mind and soul were seperate from one another, Hojo didn't even know his soul existed. His mind wasn't lonely without it. In fact, he supposed it felt rather liberating. If anyone DARED to return his wretched soul to his body and return him to the mortal world, he would be sure to make their life a living hell.  
  
The final of the three Elders spoke. "We will lock your soul away in something meaningless, yet so important that no one would ever dare to destroy it."  
  
Hojo would have spat at them if he'd been able to show any disrespect. Having been fascinated with the Ancients all his life, however, caused him to stand and take it. If only he could have been taking notes, he would have made gillions on the book he could write. So instead of spitting, and instead of cursing, he simply asked, "And what meaningless object could that be?"  
  
The first Elder smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. "Why... your diary, of course."  
  
x x x x x  
  
Bishonen no Miko: I'll try to keep myself out of this one, but it'll be tough. You can see where this stories going, I hope. It'll be good, I'm hoping. This is for all of you Vincent/Lucrecia/Hojo love triangle fans. I hope to be able to put up the next chapter soon. Enjoy the show! 


	2. Into the Hearth

This is totally the first thing I've updated in forever. "The Dance of the Chocobos" fans are gonna kill me, but I AM working on that, it's just taking me some time. I'll probably do some of that tonight, too.  
  
Once again, I own FFVII, it's in my PS2, I just can't say I own the copyrights to it. I also have a Vincent action figure and keychain! HUZZAH!!!  
  
x x x x x  
  
Cupping his forehead in his hand, Vincent tossed yet another book onto a pile of notably boring ones. "The Theology Behind JENOVA: the Cetra Goddess of Death as according to legends and lore". The problem wasn't that it was unimportant, but it was important in such a way that would put one to sleep in a college professor's class.  
  
He warily eyed the diary again.  
  
Running his hand over the surface of the dusty, tattered, faded blue book, he regarded it with awe that Hojo would have left something so important behind when he returned to ShinRa Tower in Midgar. His fingers twitched slightly as they ran under the edge of it, ready to open and read.  
  
He pushed it away hastily.  
  
He knew all too well what would happen if he delved into the story of what happened. It was an all too dangerous tale. He would read on and on in graphic detail what had happened to the one love of his life, and would find Hojo's quick death unfitting and unjust to everyone who's lives he had destroyed.  
  
Vincent let the diary roll around in his mind as he continued to read on about the theology behind JENOVA. Taking a quick and accurate sideward glance, he noted that there were still another ten or so books on the very same subject; a few of them were by the same author. His eyes trailed down the small hallway for a moment, taking in that there were still hundreds of books who's covers had yet to be opened.  
  
He could feel his eyes drooping. He wasn't one to need sleep... However, he'd been awake for three days straight now. He'd been through fifty or so books. Some he'd read front to back... three were relevant to his cause... He'd set them above the mantle of what was once a fireplace, but during Hojo's experiments, had been cleaned out to make room for more books and equipment.  
  
He turned towards the hearth, moving aside the small but heavy bookcase that had been so precisely fitted to the fireplace. The ashes of firewood were still on the cement base, scraping harshly as the bookshelf slid across the floor. Pulling the cover grate down from where it had been stashed between two shelves, he cleaned away the old ash and stocked some near empty journals inside for fuel for a fire. The pages of the journals that had been used had been carefully removed and filed according to who wrote them and when inside a desk drawer.  
  
Pulling some matches from inside the long staples drawer beneath the desktop, he turned to the hearth again. He positioned the grate, and removed the rug from in front of the fireplace. Lighting the match, he set the books ablaze, watching as the pages crackled and sparked until the fire would be well enough on it's own to not be watched.  
  
Turning to the diary, lifting it gingerly in one hand, he motioned towards the fire, ready to throw the diary to it's death.  
  
He returned it to a drawer in defeat, as sleep overtook him.  
  
x x x x x  
  
It had been a particularly long night to be on watch. Perhaps it was because it was so uncharacteristically hot and muggy for Nivelheim, or perhaps it was because there were no stars in the sky, but regardless, the young Turk continued his rounds silently. Dawn would crack soon, and he would be able to rest. Until then, he had to wait for the word of one of the scientists that they would be safe locked away in the basement and wouldn't need him to patrol anymore... but Vincent knew about Hojo. He wasn't one to waste manpower. He would have it so that Vincent was doing rounds all day, if he could.  
  
He sighed heavily. Thank Gaia that Robin was doing the day watch. He'd rather be asleep while his superior Robin was hawking over the scientists. Their experiments were too creepy for Vincent to care for.  
  
He would be awake usually until seven or so, just enough time to see a groggy and disheveled Lucrecia Norrington awake from a long nights sleep, her hair messy and still in a hastily done ponytail from the day before. That was enough for him, and he would be able to get a good rest before he had to complete his duty for the evening. He would wake at three, take the Ghast, Hojo, and Lucrecia up to the mountain reactor, and then start his rounds after they returned.  
  
He felt two arms rest heavily on his shoulders, followed by the feeling of a heavy blanked weighted on him.  
  
"Long night?" Lucrecia smiled down at him. "It's five in the morning, you know. You should get some sleep."  
  
Vincent touched her hand slightly. "I appreciate the gesture, but my rounds end at seven." Turning her nose up defiantly, she turned her hand under his, gripping it firmly, and slid the blanket into his fist. "What?"  
  
"You also are under my command, soldier. Go to bed. If you go to sleep now, we can go to the reactor at one instead of three, and yesterday Hojo found something he was interested in. He was none too happy when you came in and said we had to leave. Giving him two extra hours would be a great idea..." She grinned and continued, "Besides, you're allowed to go if one of us says so. We can take care of ourselves for two hours until your colleague wakes up." Turning on her heel, she moved for the door.  
  
How he wanted so badly to call out to her. He could smell her on the blanket. Is this from her room...? he thought idly. Determined to make one last round, he moved towards the door.  
  
x x x x x  
  
It was all too apparent why she had wanted him to return to the inn two hours early. What he had thought to be an act of kindness was simply a diversion to get him out of the mansion.  
  
Slowly making his way towards the stairs, he heard her moaning quietly.  
  
He didn't blame her. Hojo was, after all, the quickest way up the scientific social ladder in ShinRa. And he knew all too well that she had a distinct "thing" for him.  
  
Still, he was attracted to her. The fact that she gave her love to another man only made his resolve to make her his own stronger. They weren't a couple, he knew. Hojo had been quite clear that he didn't like human contact when they'd first met. He'd glared at Vincent with a distaste that was almost sour, stating plainly that it was better and easier to work alone, and that if he had it his way, Lucrecia and Ghast wouldn't be there, either.  
  
Even Hojo needed some human contact once in a while.  
  
That's it. She's either doing it out of career ambition or out of pity.  
  
He was still going to ask her out one of these days... 


End file.
